The remote is missing and it seems this whole household sucks at finding things. All of us. We’ve looked everywhere. We’ve turned the whole house upside down. Tango would’ve found it by now. He would’ve helped us as we dug under couch cushions, gotten on the floor with us as we reached under the never ending abyss of the bed. He would have miraculously and heroically emerged from a dark corner with it in his mouth. Sure there are other remotes. And yes the living room remote also works on all the other tv’s in the house. But then we’re constantly revolving remotes around for the one tv that always doesn’t have one. It’s madness! Could I simply call the cable company and request a new remote? Of course I could. But the remote is in this house dammit and we are going to find it!

EVERYTHING WE’VE LOST

Tango was a natural retriever. “Search and find” was his forte. More often than not he had something in his mouth (whether he was supposed to or not). He had a built in skill set that we were able to hone in on during his training. Before Tango passed away, I can’t remember the last time I actually bent down to pick something up. I wish I was exaggerating. But I swear this best-good-boy-dog picked *anything* up for me: dirty clothes, toys, trash, keys, pens, chapstick, whatever you can name that ends up on the floor, including the now gone remote control! He was on constant floor patrol bringing odds and ends of anything that wasn’t supposed to be there. He would have brought me the world if he could have fit it in his mouth. Towards the end of his life, before we knew he was sick, we had finally mastered him not just picking up his toys but the next step of placing them in his toy chest. I’ve lost my helper, my toy box warden, my keeper and finder of all things. He kept things in order. He was my partner and he knew it. Our current crew is of no help in the picking up process, but they are all masters in the pulling it out and strewing it all over the house process. And I don’t think I want to change that.

I cannot teach them all that Tango was and all he did. Not because they are not smart or trainable, or because I don’t know how. But because I’m selfish and I don’t want them to be like him. His position must always stay empty. No one can fill it. I don’t want to feel like I’m trying to recreate who he was in any way. I want them to be themselves. They have their own personalities and skills that we can build on. I love them each for the pups they are, wholly, unconditionally. And as such, they are not going to help us find the remote. So I’ll just have to picture Tango giggling like Dastardly’s Dog as we continue to fruitlessly search for the #%&$@ remote!

Lab·ra·dor: /labrəˌdôr/ ; noun

meaning: everything goes in the mouth